Night Patrol
by Jojo6
Summary: S/J. Metamorphosis spoilers. The requisite infirmary scene.


Title: Night Patrol 

Author: Jojo 

E-mail: randomleaves@yahoo.co.uk 

Season: 6 

Rating: G 

Spoilers: Meta. Yeah, yeah, I'm a lemming... 

Summary: The requisite infirmary scene g. Don't cringe Holly! 

Disclaimer: Not mine! 

Archive: SJD please. 

A/N: Betaed by Emry and Melly and Kat, who came up with the title. Again! 

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"What's going on with your hair?" 

"Huh?" Sensing, despite her sleepiness, that this wasn't quite the correct response to her superior's question, she hurriedly added a muffled, "Sir?", to her confused query. 

"I mean, this bit's kinda blonder than this bit," he said, running a light finger over a patch of hair just above her ear. 

Sam 'hmmmd', smiling slightly at the tingle of his fingers on her head, then wondered why he was talking so quietly. And, come to that, why he was stroking her hair. 

Stroking her....? Colonel O'Neill....? 

She opened her eyes as if she'd been shocked awake, which, in effect, she had, and lifted her head off of the pillow. "What the...." Reaching up, she quickly wiped at the drool in the corner of her mouth and looked at her CO, crouched down beside the infirmary bed. 

Smiling slightly, Colonel O'Neill waved at her a little. "Hi." 

Maybe she was dreaming. Colonel O'Neill certainly would never ask her personal questions about her physical characteristics. "Sir, what are you... um.. doing?" 

The curtain had been drawn around her bed, the lights were dimmed and in her years of experience in this particular infirmary Sam recognized these signs to mean it was nighttime. Suddenly, the Colonel's quietness made sense; he was here illegally. 

"Well, I couldn't sleep." At this point, Sam's eyes flickered to his ruffled hair. "Then I came in to do some paperwork..." Her eyes went to his fingers, tipped with the blue ink from the pen he used to write rough notes for his reports, "...and I finished it surprisingly quickly. So... I came here." 

She shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the ache in her muscles. Funnily enough, screwing with your DNA seemed to have the same effect as a really good workout. Though it might have been the cramping. 

Slowly, she rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand so she could watch him more easily. He seemed to be very close to her, crouched right by her bed rather than using the visitors chair that Janet had set up just in case anyone wanted to drop by. "Did you - this is gonna sound really odd - but did you just ask me a question about my hair?" The moment she said it, she grew embarrassed - she had surely dreamed it. 

Colonel O'Neill cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ah. Well. I kinda thought you were asleep," he said sheepishly. He scratched the skin above his top lip, grimacing at being caught out. 

Sam blinked, astonished. "You mean, you did ask?" 

"Oh... well... you know." 

She repressed a smile. He was cute when he didn't know what to say "No. I don't know." 

"I think I oughta go," he announced, his hand resting on the bed as he pushed himself up to standing. 

Moved by impulse - the memory of her head on his shoulder, of his eyes constantly on her, of his hand on the small of her back - she covered his hand with her own. The skin to skin contact was achingly familiar of their time in Nirrti's cells and she was reminded of just how wonderful he had been to her. "Stay." 

"Carter-" 

"Stay." 

"Come on, we don't do this around-the-clock infirmary stuff." He was incredibly uncomfortable, his free hand flitting from his hair to his pockets, almost as if he was compensating for the stillness of his other hand. 

Sam watched this with unfettered curiosity. "I make you nervous," she announced. 

His free hand stilled, then was hurriedly jammed into a pocket. "No, you don't," he said with casual firmness, his eyes fixing on some point above her head. 

She grinned, suddenly confident. Despite her twinging muscles, she eased her way into a sitting position, with her legs still curled up under the blankets. She released his hand at the last moment and, spring-like, it jumped into a pocket. "Yes, I do," she stated. 

"You do not!" 

"Do." 

The Colonel half-smiled at this familiar routine. "Don't." 

She opened her mouth to counter with another 'Do' but the sound of rubber-soled shoes squeaking in the distance had the Colonel diving down again, a finger held vertically across his mouth as a warning. 

A hysterical urge to giggle overcame her; she buried her face in her pillow. The squeaking continued, getting closer, then entering the room. They froze, listening as Squeaky Shoes moved around the room. Drawers opened and closed, papers rustled, bottles clinked, all accompanied to the noise of the rubber dragging on the floor. 

Colonel O'Neill, a little unsteady on his feet, wobbled and grabbed hold of the bed to prevent himself from crashing into the beside table. Unfortunately for Sam, he caught a chunk of her hair and she bit down hard at the wrench of pain. She glared at him with one watery eye and he mouthed "Sorry! Sorry!" at her, and rubbed her skull apologetically. 

It was easy to forgive him. 

They stifled all noise, hearts pounding at the perceived danger of discovery. 

He dipped further down as he lowered himself onto his calves, the position no doubt paining his knees. They both winced at the explosive sound of his knees popping. 

Squeaky Shoes stopped. 

Sam clutched at his hands, her eyes scrunched shut. 

For an agonizingly long time, Squeaky Shoes made no noise. Sam imagined her - some nameless nurse - ready to sweep aside the curtain and find Colonel O'Neill in a decidedly compromising position beside his 2ICs bed. And she cringed still further. 

Squeaky Shoes moved suddenly, and both Sam and her CO jumped. Sam opened her eyes in time to catch the Colonel rolling his own eyes. He saw she was looking and he smiled at her wryly, dark eyes dancing with amusement. 

Yeah, she thought in amused agreement. The Goa'uld had nothing on Janet's team of nurses. 

The footsteps retreated until Squeaky Shoes was too far away to be of any danger and they both relaxed. 

He blew out a breath of relief. 

"I'll second that," she murmured. 

Sam rolled onto her back, still clutching his hand, her blood pumping through her body as if she'd just had yet another near-death experience. It was funny how adrenaline reacted just the same, despite the differing circumstances. Only yesterday her heart had been pounding from the fear of being put in Nirrti's machine. And now it was pounding because she feared the discovery of her CO in her infirmary cubicle. 

Colonel O'Neill pulled his fingers away from her hand and she turned to look at him as he rose, knees popping once more. "You going?" she whispered, already missing him. 

"Yeah. Best not to try our luck further." He looked down at her affectionately and his fingers spread out, reached for her hair but didn't actually touch. 

A sweep of longing overcome her and she caught his fingers with her own. "Bye, sir," she whispered. 

He squeezed her hand. "Bye, Carter." 

They let go and he backed away towards the curtain, watching her just as intently as she was watching him. He gave her a small, hesitant wave akin to the one he had given her earlier, then he parted the curtains with one hand. 

"Oh, sir?" she whispered loudly, just as he was peering out between the curtains, checking for anyone who could give him away. 

He pulled his head back. "Yeah?" 

"Cassie." 

"What?" 

She smiled. "Cassie - she wanted to test out a hair dye on me first. Said since I was blonde anyway it couldn't hurt." Sam rolled her eyes. 

The Colonel looked genuinely amused. "How did she convince you to let her do it?" 

"Said I was the cool pseudo-parent." 

He chuckled. "Sucker," he whispered, disappearing out of the curtain. 


End file.
